Her reasons, a deceptive cadence
Her underlying meaning I need not dictate
She plays with her words
the Fibo-nazi Antisemantic
One thing I'm sure to bet, Sir
is that you'll rue the day you met her
For her beauty, her biggest asset
Will make you the biggest ass yet.
She is but a child so coy
You are but to her a toy
Which she would soon outgrow
And what happens to old toys,
you poor bastard?
They wind up in the dumpster,
Discarded
But don't get me wrong
I write no bitter song.
Against her I cast no ill
For she is free to act upon her will.
But the next in line, I urge you some care
In this case of Buyer Beware.
So, as you can see,
To find another; she is free
For the world is but a tree
Oozing with more sap like me.